


Simple and Too Much

by Glitteringworlds



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: F/F, mentions of Crymson being an ass, mentions of domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitteringworlds/pseuds/Glitteringworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let us make a deal. In a year’s time, let’s sit down and look at our reasons for staying a little more closely. I’m not saying that we have to make any promises to act, but let’s at least promise to talk. A year can… change a lot."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are discussions of Crymson's relationships with both Susanne and Cecille in this fic, including mentions of domestic violence in the first chapter. While he does have a significant presence in the story, he never actually appears, and I promise that he's mostly there to fill out Susanne's character, not for unneeded angst. This story is about ladies. I think there is only one man who has a few lines in one part.
> 
> I'm also operating under the idea that Cecille is close to Susanne's age, because honestly I had no clue she was supposed to be so young until I looked it up on the wiki. She's a General??? Tales why do you hate old people.

Crymson had never hit her before. Yelled at her, had her all but forcibly locked away for weeks at a time, told her she was foolish, or weak, or ugly: his list of cruelties was not a short one. Susanne’s husband had never been a kind man, had always had a sort of bitterness locked just beneath the surface, an anger at the world, or all the people in it, and a sour refusal to see himself as anything but the hurt party. But, for all his offenses, he had never hit her, never reacted physically in his anger, until she had insisted that Luke was not dead.

There were a thousand ways in which they had fought about Luke, and about Asch as well, once it had all come to the surface, a thousand accusations that had boiled up from her in whispers, and sometimes shouts. The silence, the insistence on his isolation, the lies, hundreds of them stacked up like a wall between Crymson and the boy. It was a wall that, Susanne had realized during the long month after Luke had finally returned but had refused to do more than lock himself in his room, had been built between her and Luke as well. She hated Crymson for that most of all, and it was this fact that first had started to crystalize into anger - real anger, that spread outward until even the smallest things, that she had once forgiven so readily, stuck like barbs in her skin.

It had been a year, over a year, really, since things had begun to change, but a year exactly since the day they had lost Luke and Asch. And she’d never, for a second, thought of them as dead. Perhaps Asch, she knew, was lost to her forever, but her feelings about that were much bigger than the simplicity of “my son is dead.” In any case, that was a loss she mourned privately, because his life was something of a tangled web that not many cared to talk about.

But Luke, Luke was celebrated, and mourned, and praised in the highest fashion. The whole city cloaked itself in black, and his name passed into legend before his body could have grown cold in the ground.

She hated it. The formality and the pomp, the mask of lies worn by those close enough to the truth to have been preparing for his death long before he was even born. She hated how much Crymson pushed her to be a part of the show, hated being dragged through the fog shrouded streets of upper Baticul early that morning to mark the one year anniversary of Luke’s disappearance. And something about it had struck her so firmly as wrong, as insincere, that it was still ringing in her ears even once the ceremony had concluded and the sorrowful condolences were passed around.

She did not regret the feeling. But mentioning it to her husband had been a mistake.

Susanne was not surprised that Crymson did not come to check up on her that evening, in the side room she had retreated to after the argument. He did not so much solve problems as wait for them to slide out of his sight, and Susanne had usually obliged him on this, both for her own well-being and to keep his temper simmering low. It did the entire household good, she knew, for Duke Fabre to be in a pleasant mood.

Usually one or two of the servants would come and look in on her, during falling-outs between the two of them, or when she was sick and bedridden. They liked her, and Susanne could tell, in the way that anyone who has lived together with others under the carefully checked power of another, that there was a wavering comradery between the lot of them, and a protectiveness that extended in both directions. Many of them were people she had known since she was a young girl, older cooks and maids who had tolerated her penchant for exploration, or the younger ones, who had often joined her back when they were all still young enough for such a thing to be deemed acceptable.

Of course, to Crymson, such an age never had existed and never would, but he tolerated the closeness between her and the household staff far more than he had tolerated it between them and his son. Sometimes weeks would go by when the only communication between the two of them happened through messages passed on by trusted workers. They kept Susanne company, and as far as Crymson was concerned, that meant that he did not have to, a great deal of the time.

But when the door slid open, creaking slightly, it was not one of the servants who peered worriedly through. Rather, it was General Cecille, who did not so much peer as march through the door, though she pulled up rather short of where Susanne lay, propped up against the backboard of the overly large bed.

“Duchess Fabre,” she began stiffly, tipping back on her heels as if coming to a slow motion, skidding halt, hands clasped in front of her. “I was not able to make the ceremony earlier, and I wanted to convey my…”

Cecille shook her head. “I apologize. I consider it my duty to share my sympathies with you today, but I… are you okay?”

Smiling, Susanne let her head tilt back, eyes closing briefly as a sigh eased its way out of her. “I am many things, General Cecille, but I do not think I have been okay for quite some time.”

“But your cheek… what happened?”

She raised a hand to the sore spot on her face. Had it darkened to a bruise already? She wasn’t used to such things, though one of her personal maids had assured her that such marks could be hidden away with a little bit of makeup. Susanne had made a note to talk with the girl later, privately, and made no efforts to conceal anything. Whatever else she felt about the mark, she was not so meek to Crymson’s temper that she would hide it away from the world. He deserved to be questioned a little more closely, in truth.

“I had a disagreement with my husband earlier today. I take it he did not share the story with you?”

“He… mentioned something of the sort, but he didn’t give any details.”

“Well,” Susanne said, letting her hand drop, “I wouldn’t expect him to. Everything involving me is either an embarrassment or a mistake, to him.” She caught Cecille’s eye, doing her best to keep her smile steady. If she was afraid, or sad, it was a weight she didn’t need to put on the other woman’s shoulders. “In any case, it’s not something you need to worry about, General.”

Susanne turned slightly away and picked up the book she had been half-heartedly reading, but noticed very carefully that Cecille did not leave the room. In fact, she took a hesitant step forward. Neither of them spoke, and Susanne let her wait in silence for a long moment while she pretended to read, eyes barely skimming the page. After she had wandered through a paragraph or two, well aware that she was barely taking in anything she read, she looked up.

“Is something the matter?”

“If you pardon my saying so your Grace,” Cecille said, floating the words on unnecessary formality. “Why don’t you leave?”

Well then. Susanne shut her book. “With all due respect, General,” she responded, voice half ice and half pity. “Why don’t you?”

She did not bother to explain the question further, did not feel the need to condescend to Cecille as if they weren’t both aware of what rested between the lines. Instead, she waited as the room filled with unsteady tension, swaying like a boat between anger and relief.

Cecille gave first, stiffness burning off of her shoulders as she walked over to the bed. She paused at the foot of it, waiting for Susanne’s nod before sitting down, taking care to settle her sword beside her.

“I suspect we both have our reasons, General. It’s amazing, really, how easy it is to justify. For my part, I don’t leave because he might come back.”

“Duke Fabre?”

Susanne laughed, bitterly, but very genuinely, amused. “Whatever electricity I may have felt between us once has long since faded away, and I have no desire to stoke those flames even if I could. No, I am still waiting for my son to come home.”

Cecille opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, then looked down at her lap as she readjusted the sword beside her.

“You should feel free to call me foolish. You wouldn’t be the first, and I expect you won’t be the last. Besides, you can say it to me no more firmly than my husband did.”

When Cecille finally looked up at her, it was with a very sincere determination, the likes of which Susanne was not sure she had ever seen on the woman’s face before. “Foolish is not the word I would use. But if he is - if Luke does ever come back, I am sure he would come to you wherever you were.”

“Maybe so, but it’s much easier to say that than to believe it in my heart. He’s always been the reason I’ve stayed. It seems right, to me, to stay a little longer. And what of you, Cecille? What binds you so readily to House Fabre? Your family’s name has been cleared now, has it not?”

If it was strange to hear even her last name used by Susanne, rather than her title, Cecille did not let on. “It has, in part. But there are still ways, many ways, that I could disgrace it again, and… many of the reasons I might have once had to leave have gone.”

“And so we wait.”

When Cecille reached up to brush Susanne’s bruised cheek, her fingers felt so gentle against the tender skin that it was as if Susanne were made of marble, and it was Cecille’s fingertips that might shatter at the touch.

“But, you Grace, whatever the reason, there are some things that no one should have to bare.”

“Yes,” Susanne said, eyes sharp as she looked at Cecille. “There are.”

Cecille dropped her hand, but Susanne caught it on the way down, resting it in her lap and keeping her gaze steady.

“You know, there are many who would think that we should be enemies, the two of us. We’ve never really had much occasion to talk, it’s true, so I suppose I can’t say that we’ve ever really gotten on. But I should like it much better if we were friends.”

Cecille smiled, the first genuine smile the conversation had seen, and if there were tears in her eyes, Susanne very pointedly did not notice. “I would like that,” she whispered, her words half a peace offering, half a prayer. Susanne patted her hand, but did not make any gesture to let it go, and silence fell once again between them, heavier now, but more comfortable.

It was not long before Cecille moved, however, standing and clearing her throat to rid her voice of any unsteadiness that might have crept in. She did not turn immediately to go, however, but wavered.

“One, last thing, your Grace.”

“Yes?”

“Let us make a deal. In a year’s time, let’s sit down and look at our reasons for staying a little more closely. I’m not saying that we have to make any promises to act, but let’s at least promise to talk. A year can… change a lot.”

Then Susanne smiled, with that same spark of genuine happiness that had been in Cecille’s, and perhaps something a little extra. She smiled, and nodded, and they left the rest unsaid.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the dismal appearance and heavy atmosphere that still hung over the Fabre estate, it was not a shut away, silent place. Duke Fabre still had regular meetings with other Kimlascan nobles. In theory, Malkuth, too, was welcome to visit, but on the whole it was the same faces as always that graced the halls.

Susanne also had her share of company, aside from those who lived and worked directly on the estate. Most common among them, especially in recent months, was Natalia. They had always been close, but everything that had happened, those that had been lost - and that which had been discovered - drove the two to find support in each other.

Which was enough of an explanation in itself, really, as to why Susanne was the first person that Natalia turned to when she started receiving death threats.

Still, Susanne had to ask about it, sitting across the table from the rather unperturbed woman, who was just finishing off her second cup of tea.

“Surely there has to be someone more suited to dealing with this than I am? Have you informed your guard? Your father?”

“Of course, they are all aware of the situation and have been extremely vigilant. It’s getting a little tiresome, to be honest. And besides, something like this is hardly so simple that a few extra swords will help to solve it. I need someone to work with me, Susanne, not someone whose only care is to keep me hidden away from any danger.”

“And you don’t think I want to keep you safe just as much as your father does?”

“I think that you, at least, might remember that I did once save the world.”

Without much better to do, Susanne stared down into her own cup, weighing concern against respect against her own worries about what it would mean to get involved. “I have to say, I’ve considered myself well removed from court politics for quite some time now, and I’m hardly prepared to investigate treason. I am not sure how exactly I could help you.”

“It would help to have a friend.” She hadn’t shifted, hadn’t shown a trace of unease, but her voice held a quaver that her body did not betray. “Do you know how lonely it can be? Yes, I suppose you probably do. I am meant to be untouchable, and while this hasn’t exactly shaken me, it’s still…”

“A good excuse to drag me out of isolation?” Susanne met her gaze.

“A good excuse to drag both of us out of isolation,” Natalia countered with a thin smile. “Besides, I am sure that you are more attentive and clever than you realize. You know these people better than I do. They have never really been at ease with me, and the truth about my parents has not made things any easier.”

“You fight too hard for those outside their ranks. Do you think a noble is responsible for the threats? Yes, I suppose that would make more sense. A princess of the people, isn’t that what they call you?” Before Natalia could respond, Susanne carried her thoughts forward, step by step.

“If it is a noble, that means the threat is most likely just a bunch of blustering by someone who isn’t fond of hot Malkuth summers.”

“Which is what I’ve told my father several times now. But he has started to mention limiting my travel, and cutting short my public audiences. So if he refuses to ignore the threats, than it does me no good to do so, either.”

That was true enough. A ruler could brush aside many things in the path of their duty, but not when someone else could still dictate their schedule and freedoms. Natalia had never been someone comfortable with sitting still while the conversation ticked on around her, and ever since she had traveled from pole to pole saving the world, she had acquired an extra touch of impatience. Not that she ever showed it on the surface, Susanne noted. She knew better, however, than to read Natalia on the surface. Both of them knew something about the layers it took to hide emotions away from those who would use them against you, and Susanne could see the frustration, the desire for action, just as clearly as if it was Luke sitting in front of her.

“What exactly would you want me to do?”

Shifting forward, Natalia placed her cup on the table between them, with the satisfied grin of someone with enough practice negotiating to know when things had begun to settle in her favor.

“Over the next months, I have several official dinners scheduled with Emperor Peony and the other Malkuth nobility, culminating in a ball after which we will sign a new treaty as to the improvement and cooperation of both our countries. All I need from you, at this point, is your attendance, and your attention. Sit with my as an official advisor, and between the both of us, maybe we will be able to bring this entire issue to a rather painless resolution.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Well,” she continued, sitting back again, “then it will only be painless for me.”

That was new too. She had never been a meek girl, but somehow, having her world twisted to bits had given Natalia a confidence that soldiers could have shattered swords against.

Susanne suspected that a few already had. She like the look of it in Natalia’s bearing, the way it pulled her shoulders straight and curved down to gently balled fists.

The details of the arrangement had been easy enough to work out, and Susanne left the meeting with a welling excitement. It felt odd to allow the feeling, but why not? They were both clever women, and she had no doubt that whomever they faced would see their threats rebuked and met in kind. It felt good to trust in that, and it felt good to be trusted by someone else.

When she slipped into her bedroom to find Cecille waiting for her, standing awkwardly over her desk examining some trinket with a bored curiosity, Susanne felt that excitement well up so quickly, and so fiercely, that for a moment she thought she might choke on it.

“Cecille?”

She spun quickly, militarily, stopping just short of a salute as she frantically sought to return the item, now clear to Susanne to be a small painting of herself and Crymson that had been made only a few years after their marriage, to its proper place on the desk. “Your Grace, pardon me. I did not mean to snoop.”

Susanne shook her head. “How many times must I insist that you call me by my name? And besides, I am the one who was late to our meeting, so you hardly have to apologize for getting restless.”

Meeting was not exactly the most accurate term, so stiffly formal, but it seemed the only thing to call the quiet talks that she and Cecille had taken to having in the slow hours of the late afternoon, whenever she happened to be in the city and Susanne was free. Unlike Natalia, Cecille never came to formal sittings with tea and cakes, deeming it inappropriate for someone like her to take the luxury. It wasn’t hard to see Crymson’s implied disapproval in her concern.

Sometimes, when Susanne let herself be frank with herself, she would find a trace of amusement in the fact that, to the right person, it would most likely be considered far more inappropriate to be having secluded, secret conferences in Susanne’s bedroom. 

“Anyway,” she added, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her, “anything that I truly have to hide, I promise you will never find it simply by poking around my desk.”

“Should I take that to mean that you do have things to hide?”

“You should take it however you’d like, General.”

Suanne settled on her bed while Cecille pulled out the desk chair, setting herself carefully on it and straightening the small portrait with an offhand gesture.

“In any case, Cecille, I actually have something to tell you this time.”

“Oh? Have the roses by the fountain finally started to bloom?”

Susanne continued steadily through Cecille’s sarcasm, not letting it twitch her face into too broad of a smile. Though that was hardly the first time Cecille had cracked a joke, it still made her happy whenever it happened.

“They have, and they are the most luxurious shades of red and orange. Thank you for asking. But no, I wanted to ask you whether or not you’ve heard anything about Natalia receiving a few death threats.”

“I have. I suppose I’m not surprised that you have as well, but why do you ask?”

“Because she has asked me to help her find out who sent them.”

“What?” Cecille’s response was unexpectedly sharp, and for a second Susanne scrambled to figure out where she had gone wrong. “Did you to accept her request?”

Cecille had shifted in her seat, now half turned away, fingers drumming on her knee. Susanne nodded, slowly. “That’s why I wanted to talk with you. I’m going to be accompanying the Princess to several official dinners in the coming months. I’d hoped that…”

She gathered her sinking voice. “Cecille?”

“I’m sorry.” Cecille still was turned away, and her voice didn’t let on to any apologetic loosening. “It is not my place to question your actions.”

“But…?”

Cecille sighed, and Susanne was relieved that it was the same shaky, nervous thing that she had been holding back herself. There was something terrifying in the impenetrability that Cecille could put on, which was strange to realize, considering how used she was to wearing it herself.. No one went about the manor without their disguises and protections. For a brief moment, however, Susanne had thought that she might have been caught unguarded against something too sharp, too hard. More worrisome than that, a part of her had still itched to slam desperate fists against it.

There were few things that scared Susanne more than the thought that she could still be willing to bloody herself against someone else’s walls.

“This is hardly your duty, Susanne.”

“And when do you think was the last time something like that mattered to me?”

It wasn’t all that shocking when Cecille reached out to take her hands. The touch wasn’t unfamiliar, and it was no more gentle, no less hesitant than it had ever been. Susanne moved her thumb over the back of Cecille’s hand, and watched the way the skin moved across it, slightly chapped and red. Wordlessly, she reached into a drawer beside the bed and pulled out the soft, scented cream she used on her own hands, and rubbed tiny circles of it into the dry skin.

“Would you allow me to accompany you?”

Susanne finally looked up. Cecille was looking at her now, facing forward once again. “Would that be appropriate? I don’t believe my husband will be attending.”

“I serve House Fabre, not the Duke alone. I could hardly be considered a loyal soldier if I let something happen to you at such an event, especially knowing the danger beforehand.”

“In that case,” Susanne replied, leaning back a bit and letting Cecile’s hands slide out of her own, “I suppose I can’t object.”

There were more things to be said, and worked out, but Cecille stood before they could be, perhaps feeling the same fear, the same fragility, that still clouded Susanne’s thoughts. 

She stood over the bed, wavering.

“You know,” she began, only partially successful in her attempt to make the remark sound offhand and casual, “you have so often asked me not to call you by your title, but you still use my family name.”

“I assumed that was what you preferred. Everyone calls you Cecille, don’t they?”

“Not everyone.”

That night, Susanne lay in her empty bed, watching moonlight against the draperies. It was too bright, on nights like that, and she’d never slept well. Sometimes she had the servants draw the curtains heavily against the light, but more often she simply let it string her along through half-consciousness until reaching a point where even the midday sun could not have kept her from sleep any longer.

And Susanne tried to remember, eyes shifting around the empty room, if she’d ever heard Crymson call her “Jozette.”


	3. Chapter 3

It took until the third formal dinner for the drudgery of the events to truly begin to wear on Susanne. The dinner itself was well enough, if loaded down with the same court conversations as ever, strung somehow between the most paltry gossip and the continual recalling of grievances older than some of the people at the table. Compounding that, of course, was the fact that there were regularly members of the Malkuth military and nobility in attendance. Emperor Peony himself was not scheduled to come until the official signing of the new treaty and accords, but he sent a group of five or so representatives to every meeting, where they clashed and grumbled with the rest of them.

Oddly enough Daath had no formal representatives at hand, which was probably part of the reason that the tensions strained and snapped so frequently. While the Order of Lorelei usually had a central part in any talks between nations, and certainly encouraged the steps being taken now, their new Fon Master had chosen to take a different approach.

Ever since Anise had taken over the leadership of the Order, she had begun to change its course with a steady, if somewhat unpracticed, hand. It was no easy task, since what remained intact of them could barely sail a small boat, let alone run a country. Susanne hadn’t talked much with the Fon Master, but it had been immediately obvious that she intended to not just to remake the Order itself, but to reframe its relationship with the outside world. 

Wary of how easily the leaders of the Order had been allowed to twist it to their own ends, Anise’s first course of action had been to make it clear that Daath would no longer be the keystone on which Auldrant would rest its hopes for peace and wealth. Though she had never entirely cut the island off, aware through either her own instincts or the advice of others that to do so would be to send those used to depending on the Score spiraling into chaos, she did emphasize that their priority was to provide guidance to those in need, not those in power.

Over the following year, from what Susanne had heard, the entire structure of the Order had begun to change. She suspected that, by the time things were over, Anise would be intent on shifting even her own power away from the singular central position of Fon Master, and dispersing it amongst the newly established council that had taken the place of the Grand Maestro.

It was hard to change religion into politics, even if they had always been closely linked, and harder still to convince people to let power flow in new directions, so it made every sense for Daath to stay a step away from the negotiations. It was almost like a test, to see if peace could be made without the hovering threat of the Oracle Knights and the word of the Score. A test worth facing, and one that Susanne did believe they could pass, in time, but a test that, nonetheless, made the entire process a tangle of egos unused to coming to compromise on their own terms.

It was only after dinner that the mess made itself known. For the third time, Susanne sat inside the grand meeting hall, enjoying the quiet lull that was allowed after dinner, and awaiting the impending negotiations that always followed it.

Natalia had, at least, been smart enough to leave time for everyone to settle after eating, and had made extra accommodations for Susanne, who was allowed to come and go as she needed, if she was feeling tired or sick. But even so, the long negotiations were arduous and almost laughably particular, with people throwing fits over the most minor details, should they threaten claims to wealth or power.

The actual issues themselves were fairly straightforward, to Susanne’s view of things. The greater peace treaty had already been put in place, and what Natalia sought was not so much an issue of borders and rulers as it was of education and collaboration, stretching in two directions. Malkuth, which lacked a centralized institute of fontech research, was to be extended space in Baticul to establish a new center for learning and collaboration with Kimlasca. This would give Malkuth engineers access to better resources and the latest discoveries, and hopefully foster even faster progress through combined efforts.

In return, Malkuth was to work with Kimlascan farmers, rare though they were, in an attempt to develop some of the neglected land for growing food. Made up mostly of marshes and rock though it was, Natalia was confident that there was room for the country to be both a place of technological drive and growth, and a place that could feed itself. Though she hoped for continued peace around the world, she had confided to Susanne while explaining the issues, she also wanted to provide something reliable to her people. After all, while delicacies may be easy to afford for the wealthy, the high costs of importing food made simply surviving difficult for the poor.

There were other details: a renegotiation of trade laws as well multiple areas in the Malkuth military that would work directly with the already established labs in Belkand and Sheridan. And, of course, the assembling of a group to focus in particular on the issue of the already waning energy supply from the Planetary Storm.

The basics, however, were irrefutably simple: we help you make progress with your technology, you help us make progress with our land.

Yet, after a nearly a month and a half of negotiating, it still felt as if they were moving nowhere.

Shifting in her seat to watch as various dignitaries trickled in, Susanne tried not to lose herself in the belief that what she was doing, what they were all doing, was useless. It wasn’t hard to believe in Natalia from a distance, but she’d never much liked working with the politics of such things up close.

To her right, Jozette stood, looking steadily outward over the filling table. Susanne had offered her a chair, of course, but as with the past two times she had insisted on standing. Glancing over at her, Susanne made a quiet note to herself to insist, next time. There were so many things that people refused unless you made it clear that your request was a bit more heavy handed than that. With many, it was responsibilities they refused, or accountability. Jozette, largely, refused kindness.

There was no reason to pay too much attention to the conversation, as it started under Natalia’s prompting, though Susanne did try to monitor the mood of the room. It was probable that the threats had either come from someone in the room, or more accurately, someone associated with them. The problem was that there was someone from almost every major house, from every angle of business. If the threat was, as it very well could be, simply a general expression of distaste for the affair, than figuring out where it came from seemed impossible, because nearly everyone had, at some point or another, expressed their distaste. Natalia had her supporters, certainly, but most of them weren’t represented here.

So there had to be something more specific to look for. There were layers and layers of desires and games that these people hid behind, and Susanne had navigated them before. It wasn’t so complex, at the heart of things. Mostly they wanted attention. But there was a difference between want and need. Between hunger and fear.

Susanne watched Jozette’s hands, clasped in front of her, index finger tapping imperceptibly. It was the only movement in the otherwise stiff figure. For a moment, she got lost in it, in the small movement, because it felt like such an intimate thing to notice.

It was the small things about Jozette that felt like they would ruin her. She seemed like a woman who only existed in small spaces, who had pushed herself into her fingertips and let the rest of her body stand for something - someone - else. Amidst every other wish and hope, Susanne had felt something growing, something new, and hard. Watching Jozette made the thing rattle around inside a gaping, empty space, watching her be small and stiff and silent. It wasn’t what she was supposed to be noticing, or feeling, but it crept up anyways.

Reaching down, Susanne pulled out a clean sheet of paper and a pen, writing out a note in a heavy, easily legible hand. She finished and slid it slightly to her right, looking carefully elsewhere, and nudged Jozette with her foot.

Waiting as long of a moment as she could bear, Susanne shifted and looked over. Jozette had figured out that the note was intended for her, and as soon as she noticed Susanne moving, she looked over, mostly in confusion. Susanne raised an eyebrow, emphasizing the question.

Do you want to slip away for a bit?

She knew that it was a bit unfair, because what could be done in response to that? Whatever her instinct might have otherwise been, Jozette didn’t seem like someone who was used to saying no when prompted. And here she was, taking advantage of that just to ease her own boredom.

Jozette nodded, and Susanne looked over to catch Natalia’s eye, making a quick gesture with her head to indicate they were stepping away. No one else at the table seemed to notice them leaving, too caught up in the details of potential farming areas.

Behind the heavy door that lead into Natalia’s personal waiting room, Susanne sighed and shook her head. “I still have regular dinners with my husband and some of the people under his rule, so it’s not as if I haven’t been a part of circular conversations like this one recently, but I had forgotten how much worse it is when no one in the room has a reason to want to get along.”

She turned, and watched Jozette awkwardly shuffle around, hovering near a chair and seemingly unsure of whether or not she should sit down. After a second frowning at the ground, she huffed over to it, taking a very purposeful seat. Only then did she look up Susanne, face melting from a stiff mask of formality to the barest traces of a smile. “It’s hard to listen to, knowing there is nothing you can do but wait for them all to get over themselves and get along.”

“It’s like watching children.” Susanne walked over and sat in a chair next to Jozette, angled towards her so they could still talk easily. “Though I don’t think they are usually so bad. Every time we start to move forward, someone seems to ask for something ridiculous and impossible, and everyone else decides they want it too.”

“They like pushing people around,” Jozette said with a sigh.

Sometimes it seemed as if all of Susanne’s world was filled with people like that, or divided into the people who wanted to push and those waiting to be pushed. But if that was the case, she wasn’t sure exactly where she fit. She hated idea that she could be responsible for moving Jozette around to her whims, for shaping the lives of people who deserved the live for themselves.

But she was so, so tired of being the one to bend.

“There has to be a reason for it. The threats, and the constant bickering. We nobles may be a vain, foolish group, but we don’t usually cause trouble for not reason at all.”

That wasn’t exactly true, Susanne added in her head, but in this case she had to assume it was, otherwise they had nothing to work with at all.

Jozette tapped her fingers on the armrest of her chair. “Someone doesn’t like Malkuth. Isn’t that the obvious answer? They are bringing their personal issues too far because they can’t stand the idea of both of our countries working together.”

Waiting a moment for Jozette to look away from the floor, Susanne leaned in to catch her gaze and drag it upwards. There weren’t tears in her eyes, but Susanne recognized the way a face looked when it was being held stiffly at neutral, held away from any sign of whatever twisted inside.

“I’m sorry, Jozette. We’ve…”

Susanne was cut off by a brief, stuttering laugh, breathy and nervous. Jozette smiled, awkwardly. “You’re so quick to group yourself in with the rest of them.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t help either of us for me to talk as if I’m not. I may not be guilty of all of the sins of my husband, but that doesn’t mean that I am not guilty at all.” Pausing, Susanne heaved a shuddering sigh, closer to crying than she had realized. “I have suffered many things, but I was never told that the name of my family hung upon my obedience to a different one. Whether I like it or not, I’m part of that family, and I can’t-”

Her hands were folded on her lap, so Jozette had to lean over to pick them up, softly, in her own. “There are things in both of our lives that we didn’t get to chose. Maybe some of the things in yours have been the cause of some of mine, and maybe that’s something that neither of us can forget but, I have let things like that hold me back before, and it wasn’t worth it.”

Lifting one hand up to brush at her eyes, Susanne watched Jozette’s hand follow it up, closing her eyes at the touch on her cheek. She sighed, again, keeping her eyes shut, though she couldn’t put into words what it was that she couldn’t bare to see.

“It’s always been easiest to hide what I want behind what the world expects to see me asking for,” Susanne said, and the thought lodged itself in her head even as she continued past it. “But I want you to be happy. I want you to want happiness for yourself.”

There was movement, rustling, and Jozette was leaning down over her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and letting herself hang there, breath on Susanne’s neck. “I’m starting to wonder if happiness might mean you,” she whispered. The words were too quiet to be real, but they burned down into a deep, quiet part of Susanne and lived there, a fire that warmed the cold but choked her lungs with smoke.

She moved forward, resting her head against Jozette’s shoulder as the woman sank down, taking Susanne curling downward with her, until she was barely balanced on her chair while Jozette crouched below her.

It was hard to keep going, sometimes, hard to imagine that she mattered, to imagine that the things was was trying to do mattered, or would ever succeed. Hard to do it, for her own sake. But for Luke, she had done it, and for Natalia.

For Jozette, too, she could try.

Sighing for a final time, she pulled herself up, opening her eyes. Jozette smiled hesitantly up at her, their hands still clasped on Susanne’s lap. They rose, Susanne first, pulling Jozette up with her, and she returned the smile. There were things they would have to talk about, eventually, but another thought bubbled again to the surface.

“If they couldn’t give away what they really wanted,” she mused, “if they had to put on the show that the rest of us would expect, then it could be nothing to do with Malkuth at all.”

“Then what is it that they do want?” Jozette had turned outwards, dropping one of Susanne’s hands, but she had kept the other hanging between them, lacing fingers together.

“I don’t know. But I’ve got an idea where to start looking.”


	4. Chapter 4

As with many things that seemed thrilling and dangerous on the surface, most of it came down to paperwork. After the evening of debating and circular arguments had stretched to a close, Susanne had taken Natalia aside and presented her theory.

“We’ve talked, of course, about the possibility these threats have more to do with a specific aspect of the new treaty than with a generalized hate for Malkuth. Someone could very well be using that as a cover for their real protests, since it would avoid drawing as much attention if we simply believed that they didn’t like the idea of peace between us.”

Natalia had nodded, waiting patiently for Susanne to move beyond subjects they had rehashed many times. After every threat they had sat down and tried to figure out any way forward, only to be stuck, once again, on how simply, impossibly generic the situation was. There were a hundred possible things the threat could be hiding, but no way to tell which it was. Susanne only had another possibility to add to the list, but something felt right about it, how direct it was.

“What if they aren’t trying to stop us at all? What if they are simply stalling? The threats have seemed inconsequential, but they have certainly tied us up, and slowed down negotiations.”

It made sense, or at least, it was one possible way to clear up the search, to give them a task to focus in on. If someone was trying to stall, it meant they were doing something. All Natalia had to figure out was what.

Which was where the paperwork came in. If they could determine what detail of the treaty could disrupt what Susanne presumed to be some piece of illegal business, then they could follow the trail before it was swept away.

As if that was easy.

After they talked, Natalia had put out orders for all the various pieces of economic drudgery she could think of to be sent to her room: old shipping and trade ledgers, tax reports, and any records related to the land and structures directly affected by the treaty. Two weeks later, she had Susanne brought to her room, and Susanne eventually brought Jozette in as well, hoping that an outside eye might provide a useful perspective.They weren’t sure where to start, or even what they might be looking for, outside of the nebulous suggestion that something might be wrong, somewhere.

Susanne spent long hours sifting through the files, and most of the time she was focused on the task, but amidst the work and the worry, there was something else, part fear and part excitement, a question about how much two people could change each other before the world started to notice. Before there was no going back.

It was slow, and quiet, and hidden, but the fact that she was changing became less easily denied every time she sat next to Jozette. Or, if not changing, then remembering parts of herself that were dusty and long forgotten, finding small joys that she had boxed up and stored away. The rush of blood at skin on skin, the way the smell of someone could grow familiar, the flutter at hearing her name spoken softly: they weren’t new feelings, but Susanne wasn’t sure she could ever remember them piling up so quickly. She didn’t feel young again, because being young and in love, to her, had meant a rush of expectations and desire she had feared as much as she had wanted.

Was she in love? There was not denying that she felt something towards Jozette, and only on her worst days did Susanne doubt that it was, at least in a fractional, fractured manner, mutual. The quiet nature that made it so welcome, however, also made it hard for her to pin down. All she could really say was that she was happy, even in the midst of paperwork and long meetings and all the drudgery of life, happy to have found Jozette, happy in a way she had not felt for a long time.

The first break happened when Natalia finally managed to find a trace of a connection between the death threats and another recently discovered problem: the smuggling of illegal fontech into the city. Smuggling was always a problem in the capital city, despite continual efforts. There was only so much that could be done to stop wealthy people from wanting things they should not have, and so the issue was handled as well as possible by the guard, excepting particular instances when it became exceptionally troublesome and was brought to the attention of the King. Even then, the news never would have reached Natalia directly if it Jozette hadn’t pried into the complaints of one of her colleagues.

Susanne sighed, tracing out patterns against the glass of Natalia’s windows as she looked down over the city. This was good, by any reckoning. It was good that Jozette had rooted out the suspicious increase in smuggling over the past months, and good that she had thought to bring it to Natalia. It was good that Natalia had been able to trace smuggled goods to smugglers, good that they would finally be able to put things to rest. Good for the kingdom, for the Princess, for everyone.

It was good, too, that Natalia would be offering Jozette a new position. Just not easy to think about.

Behind her, Susanne heard Natalia stop writing and set down her pen, presumably watching the same flaring pink sunset, or watching Susanne watch it.

“It won’t take long for my guard to empty the rest of factory,” she mused, tapping her pen against the table. “General Cecille has the harder task, trying to follow the smugglers, but I do believe she is on the right scent.”

Susanne nodded. “I believe she went to go check the docks. She thinks they may try and break away in that direction.”

Everything had moved quickly, once the issue of smuggling had been brought up. They had talked at it from several angles, but it hadn’t taken long for Natalia to realize that the connection to the treaty wasn’t an issue of what, but where. After that, it had only taken a few quiet searches to find the stash of goods hidden in the neglected factory at the edge of town, containing everything from expensive, delicate foods, to dangerous fontech weapons.

According to Natalia, who downplayed her reasons for knowing the layout of the place so closely, the factory had been an abandoned entrance to the city, one too treacherous, and too obscure, for nearly anyone to bother with or worry about. Clearly someone had bothered with it, however, and Natalia’s plans to rebuild and refurbish the factory had slapped quite perfectly into their own smuggling operation.

Mounting a mission to round up the stashed items had been easy enough. Finding the smugglers was proving to be more difficult by far. There was no paper trail, of course, and no way to tie them to the crime other than catching them in the act. It was Jozette who had set things into motion, who had organized a watch on the entrance to the factory, and prepared a select group to be ready whenever they caught the slightest breath of movement.

Susanne, for her part, had waited. And once things were finally set in motion, she had little to do but wait some more, and hope that it all went well, and hope that Jozette was safe. So she watched the sun creep down the edges of Baticul’s lowest buildings, lighting the spiraling city golden.

Natalia moved from her seat at the desk, coming to stand next to Susanne. She was taller than Susanne, though that was helped a bit by the raised heels on her shoes, and she glowed as brightly as the city did. Things had changed, she realized yet again, things were changing, and not all of it was bad. There was so much hope and determination in the woman beside her that for a moment, it didn’t matter if some of the changes took away Susanne’s own small sliver of light. She was part of the past, after all. She couldn’t cling to the present forever.

“I have no doubt that the General will be able to catch the smugglers, the people on the ground.” Natalia spoke softly, turning an unfocused gaze outwards just as Susanne did. “The matter will be resolved, at least in the short term.”

“But?” Susanne could hear the unease in Natalia’s voice.

“But once again the smaller people will be held responsible for the crimes they committed for those larger than they are. Nobles do not sneak goods around neglected factories. Everyday smugglers do not procure goods for their own use. I doubt they send threats directly to the princess in order to buy themselves more time, either.”

“You’re worried we may never find the people actually responsible for the threats. Are you worried they might take more drastic action?”

Sighing, Natalia turned inwards towards Susanne. “I’m not concerned for my safety, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m simply worried that this city has satisfied itself, for a long time, on punishing the poor and ignoring the wealthy. It doesn’t solve our more deeply rooted problems, and it isn’t fair.”

“Is that the reason you are going to request General Cecille’s service?”

It took a moment for Natalia to answer. Susanne let her think, still turned outward towards the window. “It is within my rights as Princess to assemble the best soldiers of the kingdom, should they be willing, and should the family they work for be understanding of my cause.” Natalia paused, and then added, “And even if they are not understanding, I am not against insisting. But you are not someone I would insist with, Susanne. You are not someone I want to take from.”

“General Cecille is her own person. She is not mine to take away. Besides, House Fabre has no dire need for her. My husband may disagree, but as you said, you are not above insisting.”

“Susanne.”

She turned to face Natalia, finally, unable to keep up her walls and her coldness. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to be rude, but I’ve always been a blunt person, and I worry about you. It sometimes seems like you are doing your best just to fade out from the world, to slip away from us. Perhaps I am wrong, but General Cecille, she seems to anchor you. I need to do what is best for my people, for our people, but I do not think that letting you disappear into the halls of your manor is what’s best, for them or for you.” She reached down, taking one of Susanne’s hands delicately in her own, holding it like a precious trinket, or the hand of a foreign dignitary she wished to impress. “Am I imagining things? You can tell me if I am, but please don’t lie. Not about this, Susanne. Not about your own happiness. You seem to have so little of it these days.”

The smile that crept up Susanne’s face was genuine, but stiff, cut in her mouth but not the rest of her features. She shook her head, lightly, carefully. “I’m not something so weak and fragile that you need to throw yourself down at my feet to protect me. Please, Natalia, don’t let it worry you. I won’t lie about this, but don’t let it worry you. And don’t think that I have no joy in my life. Just because I find it more in your life, or the new life you breath into those around you, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

It wasn’t a lie. There were still so many things she found beautiful, like the sun on the water, or the way Natalia’s voice turned hard when she spoke to some, and soft when she talked with others. She loved her country, and she loved the world. She simply felt like she wasn’t a part of it, sometimes.

 

As to Jozette, well. There was nothing that could have come from it, no matter Natalia’s actions. Life carried on. Problems got solved, and treaties would be made.

Gently pulling her hand from Natalia’s, Susanne turned back to look down at the docks, where presumably Jozette would be headed to cut off the smugglers if they tried to run. She hadn’t been offered the new position yet, but Susanne had to hope she would accept it. There couldn’t be any shame in leaving the employ of a Duke to work for a Princess, surely. It could only raise her up, raise her family up. If Jozette had any of Natalia’s worries, Susanne vowed that she would do her best to quell them.

That way, at least one of them could move on.


	5. Chapter 5

Susanne had known that Jozette would be the one escorting her to the officially signing of the treaty. She’d prepared for it, in a way, tried persuade her heart that things were formal, and official, and that it didn’t matter. Somehow, amidst all of it, she’d managed to tuck away the fact that her dressing up for the signing was also her dressing up for a ball, in lovely satins and soft sweeping fabrics that made her feel light despite weighing twice as much as anything she usually wore, and that Jozette would be dressing up as well.

And it did matter.

It wasn’t the sharp formal uniform, however, the gold trim or the crisp crimson sash, the high collar or the cleanly trimmed curves of the jacket, that caught Susanne’s breath and held it fast. It was simply the fact that Jozette looked happy. She stepped into the room with the same stiffness as always, but then she paused, and her face shifted, and everything else melted away.

“Your Grace,” she started, then seemed to think better of it, even under the circumstances. “Susanne. It’s been a while.”

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen each other, of course. Natalia had been quite insistent over the past months that, should her health allow it, Susanne come to the palace for tea and conversation just as often as she came over to the Fabre manor. So they had seen each other in passing, and even managed conversations in spare moments, times occasionally not so subtly provided to them by the Princess herself. They hadn’t grown distant, exactly, but the spark had found nothing more to burn, and their conversations had become smaller, lighter things.

At least, that’s what Susanne had thought. But there was the smile, and the happiness, and the unspoken hope, and the simple truth that Jozette was beautiful, and they were alone.

“You look lovely. The palace colors suit you.” She took a few steps forward, enjoying the way the hem of her dress felt around her ankles. It really was a strange thing, to be so done up, her hair pinned back but not done up high off her neck as it usually was, her shoulders bare, her hands delicately gloved. She felt like a cheat and a liar, stepping into a life she used to have, playing a game she used to know. Yet, it wasn’t a bad feeling.

Jozette reached out and took one of her hands, and even through her glove Susanne could feel the pressure, and the warmth. “That isn’t the first time you’ve told me that.”

“It is, however, the first time you’ve worn the official dress uniform.”

There was a blush creeping up Jozette’s face, though she didn’t pause to acknowledge it. “You look quite well yourself. The necklace is lovely.”

Jozette raised a finger to touch it, caught herself, but carried on anyways, tracing the thin silver chain down to the drop of green that hung at her collarbone. She adjusted it, slightly, centering it as if to explain her action. “Did Duke Fabre get it for you?”

“My brother did, actually. We aren’t as close now, but he used to dote on me a great deal.”

“It matches your eyes.”

“That’s what he told me when he gave it to me.”

It wasn’t the same as before, between them, because for all that was unspoken, the air had never felt like it was buzzing before. Susanne had never felt like her skin was electric, like her breath was a thing that needed to be heaved through distracted lungs, like her mind was too caught up with everything to notice any of it. It felt as though, any second, something would happen, had to happen or the whole world would collapse from waiting for it.

But, of course, it couldn’t. She knew that.

Susanne moved her hand from Jozette’s hand to place it lightly on her arm, in the proper fashion to be escorted. Jozette read the movement and responded in kind, straightening, pulling her finger away from where it hovered near Susanne’s throat.

Duke Fabre was nowhere to be seen as they left the manor, which was just as well. Susanne had informed him that Natalia had invited her to the signing, and he had expressed little interest. She had tactfully left out Jozette’s involvement, unsure of how he might react. There was no doubt that he would be polite and formal, as he would never risk staining his own name to besmirch hers, but Susanne still didn’t trust him, didn’t like the thought of him trying to meddle, whether or not it would have come to anything.

So they slipped out with little fanfare, walking in silence to the palace. Usually, so deep into night as it already was, Susanne could see smatterings of stars from outside, but it was different with all the lights and activity of the ball shining so brightly as if to burst out of the castle walls. The sky was purple and heavy and little more. It wasn’t a great loss, for one night. She wasn’t there for the stars.

Natalia caught Susanne’s eyes and moved to greet them as soon as they entered the grand ballroom, ending a conversation with a man that Susanne recognized, after a moment, as the Emperor of Malkuth. She wasn’t dressed in anything particularly spectacular, choosing instead to keep herself simple and elegant, though someone had managed to pin up her hair quite beautifully, letting a few strands hang loose on one side of her face while the rest were swept into curls along the side of her head. She looked older, grown, in a way Susanne rarely saw her, and she was struck briefly, once again, with that dizzying feeling of hope: for the kingdom, and for herself.

Reaching them, Natalia smiled fondly and patted Susanne’s hand. “I’m glad you could make it tonight. It means a lot to me, to see you here.”

“I couldn’t miss it, Natalia. I know how hard you’ve worked for this treaty.”

“You ought to,” Natalia replied, laughing, “considering the work that you did was as instrumental to its success as mine.”

Susanne had removed herself from Jozette’s arm, but was glad that she still hung around, quietly watching the conversation. It felt intimate, amidst the crowd, to converse with the two of them. “You are flattering me and greatly exaggerating my role. Or understating your own. But I appreciate the compliment.”

“Not exaggerating as much as you might think. Once the smuggling ring was wrapped up, I was surprised to find my bickering lords much more willing to cooperate. Probably hoping to keep their own involvement in the matter quiet. Well, we will see about that.” She caught herself trailing off subject, and shook her head slightly, her single free curl of hair bobbing back and forth. “But that’s hardly something to worry about tonight. Have you met Emperor Peony? I’m sure he is just dying to shower you with flattery.”

Taking her gently by the shoulder, Natalia steered Susanne towards the Emperor, smiling briefly at Jozette, who faded deeper into the background, her comfortable silence feeling more awkward as she glanced at Susanne briefly, not sure if she ought to follow along. Susanne shrugged her shoulders, then raised an eyebrow, cocking her head in a manner that she hoped seemed inviting. Jozette waited a moment longer, than fell in beside them, a hint of wryness pulling at her mouth. It seemed she was a little familiar with the Emperor herself, at least by reputation.

Peony, unsurprisingly, managed to insert himself into the conversation easily, pay a hundred compliments to all of them in the span of a few minutes, and even found a way to convince Susanne to accept a dance. He spun her out onto the floor with all the dignity of a man who ruled a country, though his eyes had a spark of mischief that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Susanne. She’d seen it in Natalia’s many times. 

“You are quite the charmer, my Lord,” she said as they danced, glancing briefly over her shoulder to see Jozette and Natalia watching them.

“Only with people that I cannot have, your Grace. And please, it’s just Peony.”

Susanne let out a “hmph” under her breath. “So did Natalia put you up to this? Is she trying to pry me out of my shell?”

“She may have mentioned something of the sort, but it is not as if I could have resisted a smile as beautiful as yours.”

She sighed. “This really isn’t worth your time, you know.” Peony smirked, casting a look over Susanne’s shoulder as the spun carefully, in precise measures. Both of them were too practiced to be easily thrown off the beat, though she could tell that the Emperor didn’t practice quite as much as he ought to. Carefully, she clipped the edge of his foot with her shoe when he stepped out too widely. He was wearing open sandals, as was the Malkuth fashion, and he winced slightly as she did, though his smile didn’t break.

“Okay, point taken. I won’t try any more of the lines. But you do seem like someone who could use a little adventure in your life, don’t you think? A little fun?” Much to her annoyance, her then moved her into a spin. Susanne followed through the movement, pausing a moment at the extension of it so that he tipped forward slightly, offbeat.

“I don’t see how my happiness is your business. Natalia’s, maybe, but not yours.”

“Fair enough.”

They danced together silently through a stretch of the song, Peony slightly stiffer now than he had been at first. Susanne kept trying to keep track of Natalia and Jozette, but to her dismay, they seemed to have both slipped away, or have gotten caught up in some other conversation. When she finally focused back on Peony, he was watching her carefully.

“If it is someone else’s business, though...”

“I don’t think that’s anything you need to know, either.”

He shrugged, a very awkward gesture to make while dancing. 

Relenting, Susanne finally let her voice soften, slightly. “I do appreciate the effort,” she said, as the music slowed and they came to a rest. “But there are some things that cannot be solved over the course of a dance with a near stranger.”

He smiled, a bit sadly, and let her walk away. Moving towards the edge of the room, Susanne felt tiredness creep over her, the energy she had felt only a short while ago draining away. It was all so much flash and fakery, she thought, looking out over the clumps of people. Once upon a time, she might have been swept up by a dancing with a handsome, charismatic stranger, but now she couldn’t shake the truth that everything would still be the same by the morning.

Jozette was at the edge of things as well. Susanne saw her near the entrance of the hall, talking closely with one of the other guards. She sighed, shakily, slipping back to where she had last seen Natalia. The Princess had drifted back towards the head of the room, talking with a few other Malkuth nobles, and Guy, who Susanne realized after a moment, could be counted among their number.

She slid up beside Natalia, slipping her briefly away from the group. “I don’t mean to bother you,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice light. “I’m feeling a little worse for wear. I was wondering if there was a place I could go to rest for a while.”

Natalia’s eyes flicked over briefly, and Susanne didn’t need to follow her gaze to guess that it was Peony she was glaring at. Then she quickly recovered her frown and turned back. “Of course. Why don’t you go to my room? You know where it is, right?”

Susanne nodded, and moved to the door, head ringing. The noise was cut as soon as she closed the door behind her, and she walked down the dark hallway with a sense of relief. She’d wait out the night in Natalia’s room, and let the rest of them have their fun. She was happy for the treaty, and proud to have been able to help in its creation, but celebration seemed overwhelming nonetheless.

Letting her eyes wander over the large portraits handing along the walls, Susanne tried not to let her thoughts rest on the joy that had been cut away from her as soon as she’d separated from Jozette, as soon as she’d remembered that neither of them were young enough, foolish enough, to indulge in the sort of light-spirited dance that Peony had tried to sweep her up in. True, most of the court wouldn’t have imagined it to mean anything, but it would have meant something, and that was why they’d never have it. Because it felt too simple, and it felt like it would be saying too much.

Susanne opened the door to Natalia’s room, and the cold steel at her throat turned the rest of her thoughts to static.

A hand grabbed her, pulling her into the flickering, candlelit dimness inside, and clicking the door shut. Her arm was twisted up against her back, and the knife scraped up towards her chin as whoever held her adjusted their grip. It caught at the chain of her necklace, cutting clean through the soft silver. Susanne could tell that her thoughts had gotten caught on something, twisted, because all she could think as she watched it slink down and pool at her feet was that Jozette had said that it was beautiful.

“You aren’t the Princess.”

Susanne knew the voice, even if she couldn’t place it. It wasn’t rough or gravely, wasn’t what she had expected to hear, but it was angry, shivering, and that scared her more.

“But you helped her, didn’t you? You were her special investigator.” He was one of the nobles, Susanne was sure of it, one of the people who had droned on at the meetings she had attended to discuss the treaty. 

It wasn’t hard to guess at the rest of it.

“You were behind the smugglings, and the threats, weren’t you? And what is this supposed to accomplish?”

His grip tightened, pulling backwards, towards the edge of the room. He didn’t seem sure of what to do with her. “Oh yes, it’s all very well ruined now , isn’t it? And it’s only a matter of time before the Princess’ new little dog is chomping at my heels. So I figure, what do I have to lose, right?” He was snapping at her ear, and Susanne wondered, distantly, what it was that was keeping him from killing her right there. Did he want to gloat? Was that all?

It felt like a rather pathetic reason to keep living.

But then, there was the necklace at her feet, and her heart still racing, and his fingernails digging into her arm, and an anger stirring inside. She still felt separate from herself, far away and floating, but not so separate that she could forget the way Natalia had looked, strong and graceful, not so separate that she didn’t remember how desperately the kingdom needed someone like that. Not so separate that the thought of Jozette’s smile didn’t spark something, move something inside her to action.

Susanne tensed, unsure of what she could do, but feeling more present. The man behind her was still spitting threats, but she tried to tune them out. He twisted the knife, slightly, cutting it farther up into her chin, forcing her head back, and then pulling the flat edge of it down across her jaw. Showing off. Showing her he was in charge. He adjusted again, and Susanne felt the cold pressure leave her skin, briefly, and felt the moment unfold. She took her chance, pushing backwards with any momentum she could muster. 

The room exploded.

She felt herself fall back with the man, and he screamed as he knocked into the table just behind them, the candles on the surface tumbling towards him. Some of the fire licked at Susanne and she felt droplets of wax burn her skin, splashing a line down her arm. Something else cut into her back, and then it was gone, leaving a stinging line down the back of her shoulder. These things were hard to notice, however, because Jozette was suddenly there, holding a sword and rushing towards the two of them.

She pulled Susanne towards her, away from the flailing knife that was searching, again, for the soft curve of her neck, and in the same motion slapped the hilt of her sword downward. Susanne hear it crack against the man’s head, and then everything fell to silence.

Pain finally remembered itself in the burns on her arm and the gash she suddenly realized had been cut into her other shoulder. It wasn’t deep, but she could feel blood soaking the back of her gown, and Jozette turned her around, noticing the blood as well, and frantically searching for the source, hands rushing over Susanne’s neck and shoulders, unsticking fabric.

“It’s fine,” she whispered to the darkness in front of her. “I’m fine.” Then, again, louder, falling into herself and her fear and the rush of relief and the feeling of worried hands, and the sound of Jozette crying. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Jozette, it’s okay. He didn’t hurt me, not really, it’s just a small cut, it’s-”

She was silenced as Jozette spun her around again and pulled her down, sinking to the floor with Susanne’s head in her hands, fingers digging into her hair, pulling her and down and forward, and kissing her, still crying.

Simple, and too much.

Susanne kissed her back, hands coming to Jozette’s neck and her face, clutching just as tightly. The kisses were short at first, frantic, and some of Jozette’s missed, pressed against Susanne’s cheek or the corner of her mouth, or the edge of her jaw, desperate to see the skin was still smooth and unparted. But Susanne centered her again, baring down on the warmth and bringing Jozette’s lips back to her own, a distant thought wondering at how they must look, how they would look to anyone else that might come by, before simply letting herself enjoy the feeling of it. There didn’t seem to be anything else to do.

Finally, Jozette pulled back, sinking briefly down into a softer kiss and then truly extracting herself. She pressed her forehead to Susanne’s, panting slightly, short of breath from the kissing, or from her running beforehand.

“How?” Susanne asked softly. “How did you come? How did you know?”

“He wasn’t even supposed to be here,” Jozette said, shaking her head and closing her eyes. She sank back, parting them further and twisting Susanne to the side to properly examine her shoulder. Her fingers, more careful and steady this time, parted the torn fabric, pressing carefully along the gash. It didn’t hurt much, but Susanne figured that might be shock protecting her, or the rush of distraction.

“He wasn’t supposed to be here, we already suspected… we knew he was involved. But he got in somehow, and when I found out he was here, and I couldn’t find you, and it just…” She fell quiet, working the dress entirely off Susanne’s shoulder. A moment later, Susanne felt a small kiss pressed against the crook of her neck, well away from her cut. “I just knew, what was happening, what might happen, and I knew I had to keep you safe.” She laughed. “Though it looks like I didn’t succeed completely in that.”

“You saved my life.” 

Susanne was silent a moment, then looked over to the unconscious man. “So what happens to him?”

“I don’t care. I will hand him over to Natalia to decide. I don’t care.”

Twisting back, Susanne looked at Jozette. “And what happens to us?”

Jozette slipped her hand into Susanne’s, squeezing softly. “I don’t know. But I’m not leaving you this time.”

They were quiet for a time, and Jozette slipped her arms around Susanne’s waist, pressing more small kisses against her skin, both of them still too caught up in each other to worry about the shallow cut, or the blood, or the would-be assassin slumped in the corner of the room. Susanne leaned back, pressing her left side into Jozette, resting her head against the other woman’s shoulder.

“Good.”


	6. Epilogue

“We should leave after this. Leave tonight. Go somewhere in Malkuth for a while, now that the borders have started to open up.”

Jozette rested her hands on Susanne’s shoulders, making eye contact with her reflection. Susanne held her eyes for a second, then turned back to adjusting the loose hair hanging across her shoulders.

Susanne sighed, shakily. “You have responsibilities here.”

“I know, but I hardly think Natalia will refuse us a few weeks away from… everything.” She paused for a moment, examining her own outfit. “Will Duke Fabre be there?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think he will…”

Susanne shook her head, turning around to properly face Jozette. She hadn’t seen Crymson for months, and when they had last spoken it had only been Jozette’s forceful intervention that had stopped his shouting. But for all that, she didn’t think he would bring that anger. She hoped he would turn cold again, as he used to, as he had been to her for nearly a lifetime. “Not today. Not there. If not for sorrow, then at least he will know that everyone else will be watching him for a reaction. He won’t want to give them more reason to gossip.”

“And what of the gossip?”

Leaning forward, Susanne let her hands fall at Jozette’s hips, pulling them together for a short kiss. It wasn’t passionate, or hungry, or anything heavy and pressing. It was a reassurance, an insistence, that they were together, and that being together was more important than the rest.

“There will always be gossip. They won’t bite so hard today, if they have any kindness in them.”

“And if they don’t, I’m sure that Natalia will see to it that they are removed to search for it elsewhere.”

Susanne nodded, moving away, and in losing the warmth of Jozette’s body, remembering all of the other things resting on her heart. Turning back to the mirror a last time, she smoothed down her dress. “You know, when you asked me, a year ago…”

“To consider leaving?”

“Did you mean like this? Did you mean with you?”

“No.” Jozette smiled, despite herself, moving away to pick up their coats from the bed. “Maybe. I could say it was written in the Score, but I guess that couldn’t be true anymore, could it?”

“You don’t strike me as the type to have ever held much to that sort of talk anyways.”

“I don’t know. There were times when I did, or when I wanted to. But life without it isn’t so bad. And a lot can change in two years.” Shrugging on her own coat, Jozette helped Susanne with hers. “Are you ready to go?”

Susanne wasn’t ready. She could never be ready for something like that, for a hundred faces looking to her with pity and regret, waiting for her to weep for her dead son, to cry for her lost life. She could never be ready, when her own feelings were still as twisted up as they had been a year ago. But some things were different. Despite how it felt whenever she thought of Luke, despite the fact that it sometimes felt as if time hadn’t moved from that day, that the world had perched, frozen on its axis, things had changed. She had changed. Susanne nodded, and they crossed to the door.

Jozette held it open for her as they stepped into the cool air, wind pulling at Susanne’s loose hair.

“We should go somewhere,” she said, looking out across the grey sky and the grey city. “Somewhere bright and different. But not tonight. Let me wait one more day.”

Jozette slipped her hand into Susanne’s, warm fingers lacing together comfortably, thumb moving once across her knuckles as she squeezed a reassurance.

“Of course. We can wait as long as you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this overly long story about awesome lady npcs who should kiss. I hope you now also think they should kiss. I also hope you are having a very nice day.


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